


Hotboxing

by bessemerprocess



Category: Anderson Cooper 360 RPF, Countdown RPF, Fake News RPF, Pundit & Broadcast Journalist RPF (US), Real News RPF, The Colbert Report RPF, The Daily Show RPF, The Rachel Maddow Show RPF
Genre: Drug Use, Gen, LGBT topics, PRT+ - Freeform, Shoes, Stage Gay, licking food off own fingers, munchies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-09
Updated: 2008-11-09
Packaged: 2017-10-02 22:31:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bessemerprocess/pseuds/bessemerprocess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel gets Jon high.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hotboxing

**Author's Note:**

> This is totally the fault of the twittercrew, who had to explain to me what hotboxing was and then demanded fic. Thanks to sarken and orbitaldiamonds for the betas!

Rachel pulled the truck off the road under the yellowing leaves of the oak trees.

"What are we doing?" Jon asked.

"Open the glove box," said Rachel.

Jon followed her directions, perplexed.

"Wait," he said, holding up a baggie of what looked like pot. "You want to get high?" he asked slightly incredulously.

She took the baggie from him, rolled the joint and said, "Yes."

Rachel propped her feet up on the dash and lit the joint. She took a puff and passed it to Jon.

He stared at her, but took the joint and inhaled. "This is good pot."

She smiled wryly. "Only the best."

***

Jon leaned his head against the cool glass of the window. "Isn't it weird to have Pat Buchanan be your fake uncle? I mean, Uncle Pat?"

"Don't diss Uncle Pat. We may not agree about much, but we do genuinely like one another," said Rachel, inhaling the smoke into her lungs. "Though, I do think he might be trying to pray my gay away."

"I think he's probably trying to pray all our gay away. Even my stage gay," said Jon through his giggles.

"So, you kiss men on national television, but not the privacy of your own home? How does that work?" Rachel asked.

"Well, you kiss women in the privacy of your own home, but not on national television," Jon replied.

"That's different. Pundits don't often have opportunities to kiss people on TV," said Rachel, gazing out into the fall landscape.

"Point. You should really try it someday. It's exhilarating," said Jon.

"You ever consider that it's because you're kissing Stephen, not because you're kissing Stephen on national television?" Rachel asked.

"No, I'm just stage gay, not gay gay. Maybe if Stephen was gay gay, but he's not..." Jon trailed off into silence.

Rachel took a long drag off the joint and then blew the smoke towards the ceiling.

"Why doesn't anyone do stage straight?" Rachel complained, shifting to put her feet in Jon's lap.

"Isn't that, like, being in the closet?" Jon replied, resting his hand on Rachel's ankle.

"No," said Rachel, her hand clanking against the truck window as she gestured. "For it to be stage gay, everyone has to know you're straight and vise versa."

"Half my fans think I'm sleeping with Stephen, anyway."

"Well, half my fans think I've slept with Keith, so I'm not sure that's a good standard," Rachel responded.

Jon giggled. "You're so not Keith's type at all."

"I'm not Keith's type?" Rachel asked in mock outrage. "He's not even my right gender! If I were straight, Keith would sleep with me."

"I have to admit the two of you have chemistry. But as far as I know Keith likes them barely old enough to drink."

"Maybe. But really, he's like the big brother I didn't know I wanted. The first week I was on the air, he tried to ban my staff from telling me about mean things Fox News was saying about me," Rachel explained.

"We all know Keith loves you. He'd probably go punch Hannity in the face if you asked. Wait. Don't ask. I'm not bailing him out of jail ever again," said Jon with frantic hand motions.

"You bailed Keith out of jail?" Rachel asked.

"Just the once, but he will kill me and scatter my body parts around New York if I tell you."

"He can be a bit vindictive," Rachel said with a nod. "I think he keeps a score card. But he's more into public humiliation than body part dismemberment."

"Do you always wear sneakers on the air?" Jon asked, changing the subject before Rachel could weasel the story out of him.

"That was a non sequitur," Rachel replied, giggling.

"I've been staring at your shoes, and they are really shiny. I like them," said Jon, undoing the laces of one of the sneakers.

"What are you doing?" asked Rachel, trying to pull her foot away.

"I want your shoes, so I'm taking them." Jon pulled off the first sneaker and held it aloft.

Rachel squeaked. "Hey! No fair exposing my toes to the cold light of day!"

Jon ignored Rachel, playing with the shoe instead. "Damn, you have big feet. I think I could wear your shoes."

Jon ducked out of the way as Rachel scrambled to thwack him in the back of the head. "It's not that I have big feet, it's that you and your tiny little self have small feet."

***

"Do you wish Stephen was gay gay?" Rachel asked. She'd flipped around so that her feet where wedged between the steering wheel and the driver side window and her head rested on Jon's shoulder.

"No, I want Stephen to be Stephen. Do you ever wish you were just stage gay?" Jon asked in response, letting his arm fall around Rachel's shoulders.

"No, I'm used to being me."

"Huh," was Jon's reply.

"I'm hungry," Jon continued, his tone closer to a whine than not.

Rachel riffled under the passenger seat before pulling out a ziplock freezer bag full of snack food. "You never know when you're going to get stuck in a blizzard. It's good to be prepared."

Jon dumped the food on his lap and started sorting out the packages. "Beef jerky, Twinkies, Ho-hos, Fruit roll ups, chocolate cherry granola bars, and nacho cheese Combos. Did you do your emergency food stash shopping at 7-11?".

"Damn. I thought there were Cheetos in there too. The puffy, spirally ones. They're my favorite," said Rachel, pawing through the packages on Jon's lap.

"Hey, hey, hey!" said Jon pushing Rachel's hands away. "You were about to get more than Cheetos!"

"Your penis will not stand in the way of me having Cheetos, Jon."

"Now you sound like Stephen," Jon barely got out around his giggles.

Rachel joined in on the laughter, throwing her head back in glee.

"Trade you the Cheetos for the baggie," said Jon, tossing Rachel a half crushed bag of Cheetos. "We need another joint."

Rachel handed over the bag and watched as Jon rolled the joint deftly. "You've had lots of practice."

"They call my fans Jon's stoners for a reason," Jon said as Rachel ripped open the Cheetos bag and inhaled the fake cheese smell.

Rachel popped a Cheeto in her mouth and then licked the orange dust from her fingers. "Mmm, Cheetos."  
***

They sat in the silence of the truck, watching the golden leaves fall on the windshield, warming themselves in the dappled fall sunlight, passing the joint back and forth.

"So why are we really out here?" Jon asked.

"Sometimes I just need a break," said Rachel.

"When I was in high school I thought I would be famous and change the world. Oh, the arrogance of youth. And then, in college, I thought I'd be brilliant and uncompromising in my chosen field. And then I was an adult, doing part time handyman work. I was comfortable. Maybe I would never be famous or foremost in my field, but I knew who I was," she said. "And then, all of a sudden, I'm famous, and people are saying I'm brilliant and I'm beating CNN and Fox in the ratings. The arrogance of my youth is gone and now I'm not sure I really want anything besides a strong woman who loves me, a pick up truck that runs, and a loyal dog."

"You're a country song, Rachel," Jon responded gently.

"A lesbian country song."

"Nothing wrong with a lesbian country song," Jon replied. "We just need to get you some cowboy boots and a stetson. You'd be good in snakeskin boot."

Rachel wiggled her socked toes. "I'm vetoing the snakeskin, but I'll take the stetson."

Rachel's cell phone rang and she threw it at Jon in some sort of Pavlovian instinct to get the ringing thing away from her ears.

Jon snapped it open and demanded, "What?"

"Jon?" asked Keith on the other end. "Why do you have Rachel's phone?"

"Because she threw it at me," he giggled.

"And why did Rachel throw her phone at you?" Keith asked, sounding slightly exasperated.

"Because she likes to pelt me with flying objects?" Jon giggled and Rachel stuck out her tongue.

"What exactly are you two up to?" Keith asked, his voice suspicious.

"Nothing!" yelled Rachel from across the cab.

"I heard that," Keith said. "Now I know you're up to something. Give the phone to Rachel."

Jon held out the phone and waved it in front of Rachel's face.

"No, I'm not talking to him like this!" Rachel declared..

"She doesn't want to talk to you."

"Well, then put me on speaker phone," said Keith.

Jon did as Keith requested, because in his experience it was usually not a good idea to argue with Keith.

"Rachel," came the disembodied voice from the phone. "Are you two high?"

Jon and Rachel both collapsed into giggles.

"I'll take that as a yes," Keith said over the cacophony. "Where are you? I'm at Rachel's but no one is here."

"Oh shit," Rachel said and then immediately covered her mouth with her hands, like Keith had never heard a curse word before.

"Seriously, how high are you?" Keith demanded.

"Way too high to drive," was Jon's reply.

"No shit, kemo sabe. Just tell where you two are and I'll mount a rescue operation," said Keith.

Rachel stopped giggling long enough to give Keith directions. "Wait," she said. "Are you at my house in New York or my house in Massachusetts, because, you know, the directions are really different if you're in New York."

"Massachusetts. Remember, dinner? You invited us all up here?"

"I remember, I remember," Rachel protested.

"Okay. Just hold tight and I'll come and rescue you," said Keith and then he was off the line with a click.

"Keith, to the rescue!" Rachel said in her best comic superhero voice.

"He does like rescuing you. If it had just been me, we'd still be here tomorrow," Jon commented.

***

Thirty minutes later Stephen's car pulled up behind the truck.

Jon and Rachel had opened up the truck's door, letting the pot smoke dissipate, and moved to sitting on the tailgate kicking their feet.

Stephen, Keith and Poppy, Rachel's dog, piled out of the car.

Poppy made a beeline for the largest pile of leaves and happily rolled in them as Keith glared at Jon and Rachel and Stephen just looked confused.

"You brought my dog?" Rachel asked.

"You brought Stephen?" Jon asked.

"Well, since I don't drive, I couldn't very well come and rescue you myself. Stephen pulled into the driveway just as I got off the phone with you and he has apparently bonded with your dog and insisted he come along," explained Keith.

"Who's a good dog?" Stephen said and Poppy hightailed it out of his pile of leaves and almost bowled Stephen over with the force of his enthusiasm. Stephen scritched behind the dog's ears.

"Not him," Keith said under his breath, causing Rachel to glare at him. "Well, he licks! It's like I'm covered in bacon or something. I am not food!"

"Well, I for one think you are tasty and delicious, Mr. Olbermann," Stephen said with a straight face.

Rachel and Jon had no such composure and laughed so hard Rachel almost fell off the tailgate.

"Lick him! Lick him!" Jon yelled and Stephen tried to comply.

Keith was having none of this and made a run towards the car.

Stephen tackled him into a pile of leaves and licked a stripe up Keith's face.

"Yuck! Ick! Ack! Stephen!"

Keith's reaction only encouraged more laughter from the tailgate.

Poppy joined in the fun, licking Keith and Stephen indiscriminately.

"Rachel!" Keith howled. "Get them off me!"

Rachel hopped down from the tailgate, still a little unsteady on her feet and Jon followed behind.

A wicked grin crossed Rachel's face and she looked at Jon and said, "Right or Left?"

"Left," Jon answered, before tackling Stephen back down into the leaves.

Keith tried to roll away but Rachel and Poppy were on him.

"Argh! Help, Rachel just licked me! Not food!" yelled Keith.

Rachel turned his shouts into high pitched laughter, digging her fingers under his ribs in a way Anderson had let slip made him the most ticklish.

Keith howled in laughter, trying to curl his legs in to protect his soft underbelly.

***

Later, Jon and Rachel were shoved into the backseat of Stephen's car with Poppy.

Rachel leaned her head against Jon's shoulder, contented.

Jon wrapped his arm around her and together they fell asleep.

"Damnit," said Stephen, looking in the rear view mirror. "I wish I had a camera."

Keith just smiled. "They look so innocent when they're asleep. Like they didn't just get high and try to lick me!"

"I think Rachel, at least, succeed in licking you, Keith," Stephen commented.

When Stephen pulled into the driveway, Anderson was sitting on Rachel's front stoop, bottle of wine in hand.

"Uhm, Stephen," Anderson said in greeting, "you have leaves in your hair."

Stephen ran a hand through his hair and watched as crumbling bits of leaves fluttered to the ground.


End file.
